A Second Chance
by midnightmockingjay
Summary: Scorpius Malfoy has landed himself in St. Mungo's because he was tired of being alive; Rose Weasley is recovering in the bed next to his from a Quidditch injury. Surprisingly, they come to find out that they're more alike than they ever thought possible.
1. Chapter 1

_Trigger warning: attempted suicide. Scorpius Malfoy has landed himself in St. Mungo's because he was tired of being alive; Rose Weasley is recovering in the bed next to his from a Quidditch injury. Surprisingly, they come to find out that they might actually have something to offer one another._

It was dark when Scorpius opened his eyes, just as he had expected it to be. His mouth twitched into a small smile as he took a deep breath, the first breath of a new beginning. As the sixteen-year-old moved his arms to stretch, unexpected pain shot through them, sending him to a halt.

_That's funny,_ the boy pondered with a frown, a tiny dent forming in between his blonde brows as he thought. Wasn't the point of death for there to be no more pain, no more suffering? That's what Scorpius had always thought, and he found that even in this afterlife, he couldn't _tolerate_ being wrong.

"_Lumos_."

It was a whisper, coming from somewhere off to the side. Following directly after the spell, a small light appeared to the right of him, and Scorpius turned his head to see a familiar face. Well, not really her face—just a curtain of the frighteningly red hair that seemed to pop up everywhere at Hogwarts.

But even though there seemed to be an army of gingers walking around, Scorpius could always pick Rose Weasley out of a crowd.

Finding his voice, the Malfoy questioned, "Rose? How in Merlin's name did _you_ die?"

The girl jerked in surprise and turned to look at the boy to the left of her, snapping the book on her lap shut as she did so. Her eyebrows were stretching towards her widow's peak, over crystal blue eyes that were wide with surprise. "Malfoy? Are you bloody _mental_? We're not dead."

_Malfoy. Malfoy Malfoy Malfoy._ He couldn't _stand_ the name anymore, and Scorpius nearly moved his hands over his ears in an attempt to block his own bitter thoughts. Instead, he said, "Don't call me that." It sickened the boy to hear his voice—the voice that was usually so cold, so uncaring—crack with suppressed emotion.

"Call you what?" Rose questioned, unaware of what she did wrong. "'Malfoy'? That's your name, is it not?"

"Just… Just call me Scorpius." It took every ounce of self-control to keep his voice monotone; he'd spent most of his childhood putting on a mask of confidence and indifference, so why should he stop just because he wasn't quite sure what was going on? "And what do you _mean_ we're not dead?"

"I mean exactly that," the Weasley responded, sounding a bit sardonic. "We're in St. Mungo's. God, Mal- _Scorpius_, you must've hit your head pretty hard, however you landed yourself in here."

"Trust me, head-hitting wasn't a part of it." Or at least he didn't _think_ it was; maybe he hit it when he was unconscious. Scorpius didn't know how the hell he was _alive_, let alone what had happened in the time frame between his failed attempt and waking up alone in a strange room with his academic rival. "So, St. Mungo's, huh? What floor?"

"Ground," Rose answered, turning her body a bit so she could get a better look at the boy in the opposite bed. Scorpius squinted as her wand flashed directly into his gray eyes, but as he went to shield them with his hand, he thought better of it. He could see that her right cheek had skid marks and bruising on it, but other than that, Scorpius couldn't see anything wrong with the Gryffindor. He could see Rose looking at him in the same way, but by the confusion in her eyes, the boy could tell that she didn't have a clue as to why he was there. He wanted to keep it that way. "So what are happened—have your wand backfire on you?"

Scorpius propped himself up so he wouldn't be the freak that held conversations while lying down; he was considered an outsider in every other aspect, and he didn't need one more to add to that list. "I'd really rather not say. What about you—cauldron blow up in your face?"

Rose shook her head, and he couldn't help watching the way her red curls bounced. It made her look almost… pretty. Scorpius bit his lip to keep from scowling; after years of listening to his father rant about Weasleys, how on Earth could he actually think one was _attractive_?

The girl almost didn't want to tell him how she got admitted, since he wouldn't tell her his reason, but Rose could see something a bit different in his eyes that made her leave the subject alone. "Fell off my broom."

His eyes widened before the boy could stop them. "_Rose Weasley_ fell off her broom? I think the world is ending."

With a slight laugh, Rose rolled her eyes. "I was pushing for speed while doing an exercise with some bludgers. I wasn't looking and one knocked off the front of my Nimbus before I could beat one away, and I went down. Most pain I've ever felt in my life, and I lay there, dodging still-active bludgers for about an hour before Hugo found me. A few got decent hits on me. I dropped my wand during the fall, so there was nothing I could do. Dad found it twenty feet from me."

Scorpius grimaced in sympathy pain; he knew how much it hurt to fall off a broom or be hit with a bludger, but he was never badly injured enough to have to be admitted to St. Mungo's. There was a short silence before the blonde asked, "About what time is it?"

"Three in the morning," Rose answered, twirling a red lock of hair around one finger. The atmosphere was beginning to get a bit awkward, and neither of them knew what to say. "So have you ever played Quidditch? I know you're not on Slytherin's team, but…"

"Yes, I play," he said with a sad smile. "Beater, actually." It was one of the many ways the two were alike (though at this point, they both thought that they were polar opposites).

"Wasn't your father a seeker?"

"And wasn't _yours_ a keeper?" Scorpius shot back, unable to keep the hostility out of his voice. He knew that she hadn't meant it in a bad way, but the boy always got snappy when his father was brought up.

"_Hey, Malfoy! Talk to your Death Eater daddy lately? I bet you've been plotting the next wizarding war with him, you pathetic bastard—"_

"Watch that tone, _Malfoy_," she snapped back, Weasley temper igniting. Scorpius flinched at the use of his surname, and Rose grinned, feeling a bit of sadistic pleasure that she would be sickened by later; maybe, she'd think, the Sorting Hat was right and Slytherin _was_ a good match for her. "Oh, you don't like that, do you? **Malfoy.** _Malfoy. __**Mal**_—"

"_Please_ shut up," the blonde pleaded, his voice breaking once again. "_Malfoy's don't beg_," he heard his father say in his head, and he felt the sting of a slap to the back of his head. Scorpius had been asking for a trip to Honeydukes; they had come out with a new chocolate frog card, and he needed it for his collection. _"It's demeaning. You ask for what you want, and if they don't give it to you, __**make**__ them do it. And in this case, just shut your ungrateful mouth and show me some respect."_

Shaking his head, Scorpius found himself turning and lying back down. _I just want to go back to sleep and not wake up; is that too much to ask? _"Don't you get it? I hate being a Malfoy. I _despise_ it." He found a lump had settled in his throat, and his eyes started to sting. _Do __**not**__ cry, you weak little git,_ Scorpius snarled at himself.

When Rose spoke again, he could tell by the tone of her voice that she felt bad. "Scorpius—"

"Just _leave me alone_," the boy interrupted. "You never had a problem with ignoring me at Hogwarts, so why such a sudden interest now?" He hated how the shake wouldn't leave his voice, and lifting a hand, he bit his knuckle until it bled as he tried to block everything else out.

But Scorpius could still hear her say quietly, "Because you seem so sad."

"—healed the vertebrae the best we could, but she's still going to need physical therapy if she ever wants to play Quidditch again. Learning how to _walk_ again is going to be enough trouble, let alone getting back on the broom. It'll probably be another two years, at least."

Scorpius didn't recognize the voice that cut through his sleepy haze, so he figured that the man speaking was a Healer. The disembodied voice had the tone of a Healer: soft, reassuring, sympathetic. The boy figured that the man didn't actually give a shit; it was just a font that was required for his job.

"But I'm Gryffindor's Quidditch captain," a girl's voice said softly. Rose, he identified immediately. Her voice seemed different from usual—instead of the confidence and semi-sarcastic bite, it was unsure and devastated. "It's my first year. I need to be there for my team."

"Well I'm sorry, Miss Weasley, but I don't think that's going to happen," the Healer claimed, still sounding empathetic. "You could possibly do it during your final year, but even that's a long shot. Maybe you should look for a less strenuous hobby, like knitting or—"

"I don't want to learn to knit!" Rose snapped. Scorpius could hear shifting sheets, and a murmur of, "Calm down, Rosie." The girl didn't calm down, though, and she just continued fuming. "I want to play Quidditch! It isn't a bloody _hobby_; it's the best thing in the _world_!"

"Thank you, Hillbridge," an older male voice dismissed, cutting off Rose. If Scorpius had to guess, he'd say that the man was her father, the famous Ron Weasley. "I know you've done all you can.

There was a slight pause before the Healer said, "A nurse will be back with your anti-pain potion in a little while. I wish you a speedy recovery, Miss Weasley."

"Thanks," Rose said in a monotone, and for a moment, she reminded Scorpius of himself.

The door clicked shut, and there was movement on the other side of the room. "Rose, it isn't as bad as it could have been," a female voice that wasn't the girl in the hospital bed soothed. "We thought that there was a chance that you wouldn't be able to even walk again. This… this is so _lucky_."

Without opening his eyes to see Rose's expression, Scorpius could tell that "lucky" was the last word the girl would use to describe herself. Instead of voicing her feelings, she said in that same emotionless tone, "I guess you're right, mum."

There was a bit of an awkward pause, and Scorpius figured that it was time to "wake up", so he wouldn't have to lie there pretending to sleep for a few hours. Instead of stretching as he normally would—he still wanted to hide his forearms, even more so now that he was in the room with Ron and Hermione Weasley—the boy just sat up slowly and looked to the table next to his bedside to grab his wand.

To his surprise, the thirteen-inch hawthorn wasn't there. Frowning, he checked to see if it was in his clothes somewhere. When he found that he was in a pocketless hospital robe instead of the clothes he had been wearing, he was a bit irked, even though he knew that his old clothes were probably stained with blood.

Turning to where Rose's family was seated (just the immediate; Scorpius didn't know what he would do if he found himself in a room full of gingers who hated his guts), he questioned, "Good morning; have any of you happened to see a wand lying around?"

The entire family flinched at his voice and turned around to look at him; it seemed that they hadn't been aware of his presence, save for Rose, who smiled weakly at him. "I haven't seen it, sorry."

Ron narrowed his eyes and a frown tugged at the edges of his lips. "You're Malfoy's kid, aren't you?"

Scorpius twitched, and the polite smile that he had placed on his face fell right off. "It's always 'Malfoy's kid,' or 'that Death Eater's brat,' isn't it?" he muttered, pulling the sheets off of his slim frame and getting out of bed. He took a moment to get his balance before striding from the room, leaving the bewildered Weasleys behind without another word.

Since he wanted to find his wand, the Reception area seemed a good place to start. As Scorpius walked down the hallway, confident mask in place, he got a few strange looks from Healers and anyone else who happened to be passing. He could see the same revulsion in every expression, the hate in their eyes. _Malfoy_.

The boy clenched his fists. He was so bloody _sick_ of being compared to his father in everything he did. At first, Scorpius had rebelled against his father when he started at Hogwarts, except for one thing: the Sorting Hat was going to put him in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor until he intervened, saying that he _had_ to be in Slytherin. The words the hat had uttered after that still were stuck in the boy's head to that day, and he hoped desperately that they were still true.

_Slytherin? From what I've seen, Mr. Malfoy, you are __**nothing**__ like your father_.

Scorpius tried to make friends at first, but the first people he tried to talk to completely ignored him, and the next group shoved him down the stairs. What really made him give up was when a girl called Clarissa came up to him and hexed him. "_Your grandfather killed my grandparents."_

Though he'd never admit it (and he'd probably hex the first person that suggested it), the boy had done a lot of crying during his first year; his father had warned him that people weren't going to be accepting, but he had no idea that it was going to be so horrible.

So, Scorpius created a mask. Normally, he just stayed out of everyone's way. He spent most of his time learning spells to help defend himself against bullies that were always finding new ways to torture him. When he was threatened, though, he used his wit to try to outsmart his tormenters, and faced them with disgust and hate.

"Scorpius, what are you doing out of the ward?"

That cold voice—so familiar to him—stopped Scorpius in his tracks. The boy turned to see his father, emotionless gray eyes that mirrored his own, staring at him. Something , though was hidden under that bored-looking mask of his, though the man's son couldn't tell exactly what. Steeling himself, he responded, "I was going to ask if anyone had my wand."

Draco pulled the wand in question out of his robes. Just as Scorpius reached for it, his father retracted his hand and stuck the Hawthorn back into his robes. "I'm not supposed to give it to you until you're deemed… _stable_." The man's lips curled into a sneer at the word, and with a sigh, he began, "Do you have any idea how much trouble this little attention stunt has caused me? I've had to bribe three newspapers to keep them from running stories on it; I have to lie about why I'm taking a day off of work; your mother keeps checking on me for updates, since she won't be back from Romania for another two days. I know I wasn't the most loving father, but I didn't think I raised you to be _weak_."

"_I'm not weak_!" Scorpius exploded, unable to keep his mask in place. Heads turned in their direction, and Draco quickly cast _muffliato_ so they weren't overheard. "You have no fucking clue what being related to _you_ and your _**own**__ sodding father_ has done to me. If my surname wasn't Malfoy, maybe I would actually have friends. Maybe I could go to Hogwarts without staying in the infirmary more than ten times in a term. Maybe… maybe I would have let the Sorting Hat put me in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor like it was going to. But no, I sacrificed my own happiness so you would be proud of me. And it _wasn't enough_!"

"Stop right there," Draco cut in. "I never said that you had to be in Slytherin—"

"Oh, you didn't?" the boy questioned with an incredulous laugh that seemed a bit hysterical; now that he was finally giving his father a piece of his mind, Scorpius found that he couldn't stop. "_'Since history was recorded, all Malfoys have been in Slytherin, Scorpius. You wouldn't want to stop the family legacy, would you?'_" he quoted. "Every time Hogwarts ever came up, you always started going on about how great Slytherin was, especially now that 'all of those Death Eaters are gone'. I don't know if you've forgotten, but _you were a Death Eater!"_

"It was a mistake!" Draco roared, getting red in the face. "It was a mistake that I've paid for my entire life, one that I've spent years trying to correct to no avail. That's why you need to rebuild this family; I will _never_ be trusted, but maybe you could be." The man had run out of steam, and he just stood there for a moment, looking so tired while pulling at his sparse amount of blonde-gray hair with a bony hand. "You've always been a better person than me, Scorpius. I know… I know I didn't coddle you in the least when you were growing up, and I instructed your mother not to either. You want to know why? It's because I _knew_ that it was going to be so damned _hard_ for you when you left the Manor and went out into the real world, because all anyone would care about is the _Malfoy_ at the end of your name. You needed to be tough. I know that you'll go on to do great things Scorpius, because you are much more brilliant than your mother and I ever were, and you don't have the remnants of a Dark Mark still on your arm. You needed to be _strong_—"

"Well what if I don't want that much pressure on me?" Scorpius broke in, his voice cracking. "God, _Draco_, you could have made me strong without distancing me from everyone and hitting me when I did something wrong. Because of this ordeal, you have to have _some_ idea of how much I hate myself. But I'm done now. I'm done with you, I'm done with 'Malfoy', and I'm done with _everything_."

With that, Scorpius turned on his heel and walked away.

The Weasley Clan was still there when he got back to the room that he was sharing with Rose. They all turned to look at him as he entered, and while Ron, Hermione, and Hugo put his bad mood as a side-effect of being a Malfoy, Rose knew that something was up. "What happened?" she asked as he passed her and plopped down onto his bed gracelessly.

"My father, that's what bloody happened," he muttered, just loud enough so she could hear. Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, unsure of what was going on. Before anyone could say something else, a Healer came in.

"Ahh, Mr. Malfoy," she greeted, striding over to him. The woman seemed a bit wary of him, as if he was going to bite her head off if she tried to talk to him. Clearing his mind, he morphed his expression so he had a pleasant smile on his face.

"Please call me Scorpius," he requested. "Mr. Malfoy is my father."

Though he really didn't want to remind himself of that fact, making a corny "joke" lightened the atmosphere a bit, and the Healer felt comfortable enough to step a bit closer. After casting _muffliato_ over the area so the Weasleys wouldn't overhear (Scorpius assumed the only reason that it hadn't been used during Rose's visit earlier was because everyone thought that he was asleep), she said, "You're not really a normal patient, so we didn't know where to put you in terms of wards. Is this one suiting you alright?"

"Yes, ma'am," he responded, not forgetting his manners even when he was ready to either punch something or cry.

The Healer smiled tightly. "Good, good. So, I had one of our interns run to a Muggle pharmacy and pick a bottle of these up, since your father refused to have you transferred to a Muggle hospital where they could probably meet your needs better." Uncapping the little orange bottle, the woman poured two capsules into a small white cup and handed them over. "Take them with this," she directed, waving her wand and Conjuring a glass of water. "You'll be taking two pills twice a day for two months, and the prescription can be extended, if you require more."

"So… what are these, exactly?" he inquired after taking them; he probably should've asked this before, to make sure that they weren't poisoned, but seeing as he wanted to die anyway, the poison would only help.

"Muggles call them anti-depressants," the Healer said, checking something off on her clipboard. "They increase the serotonin levels in your brain, which helps get rid of the negative thoughts that you've been experiencing. Now, in a couple of hours, I'm going to send Miss Reyes in for your psychological assessment. Is that alright?"

"Just wonderful," he said, smile still in place.

She seemed a bit unnerved. "Right. So, I'll be going now; just holler for Mediwizard Collard if you need anything." With that, she deactivated the spell and exited the room.

Scorpius let his façade drop immediately. With a sigh, he threw the sheets over himself so the prestigious Weasleys wouldn't have to look at a pile of scum.

As the ginger clan was leaving a few hours later (and on top of the previous three, a lot of the others had joined them), Scorpius's shrink came into the room and requested that he come with her to her office. The boy did so obediently.

Night had fallen by the time Scorpius got back to his shared room. Miss Reyes had been a woman in her early thirties who had just graduated from med school with a degree in psychiatry at a Muggle university, and her constant bubbliness and jovial attitude made the boy want to punch her in the face.

But, he was able to quell those impulses and talk with her civilly, making sure that everything that came out of his mouth was exactly what she wanted to hear. If he could keep that up, Scorpius figured that he'd be out of there in no time.

Also while he was there, a Healer had come in and finished the healing that they had already started on his arms. There were no longer bandages covering the two gashes on his pale forearms, and looking at them made Scorpius feel sick.

When he got back, he found Rose reading. From his angle, he could see the title: _Quidditch Through the Ages_. It was one of Scorpius's favorite reads, and by the worn cover and crinkled look, he could tell it was as well loved as his own copy.

Scorpius went back to his bed, sitting with his legs crossed as he stared into space. After a few minutes of that, the girl's voice broke him out of his stupor. "So where did you go?"

The boy started, surprised that she was actually starting a conversation with him, and shrugged. "Psychiatrist."

Rose's eyes widened; she wasn't expecting that. "What for?"

"…And that's where I stop answering questions on that particular subject," he said nonchalantly, as if his stomach wasn't hurting him just thinking about it. "What've you been up to without yours truly as company?"

"Reading," she answered, a bit disappointed about the lack of an answer and even more curious. There was a slight pause before Rose said, "I could tell you were upset about something earlier, and you mentioned your father… Care to talk about it?"

Scorpius opened his mouth to decline her offer, but instead, he found that he didn't want to reject; there was just something about talking to an almost-stranger about personal issues that appealed to him, and he wasn't the only one who felt this way.

"Well… I was going to look for my wand, and I ran into Draco into the hallway." Rose raised her eyebrows as he referred to his father as "Draco", but didn't comment. "We sort of… fought a fair bit. I was just sick and tired of having to agree about everything he says and groveling for forgiveness when I don't. This is going to sound really stupid, but he doesn't _love_ me. I mean, I shouldn't care—"

"Of course you should; he's your father," Rose cut in, but he continued as if he hadn't heard her; now that the boy had started, he didn't think he could stop.

"—but I do, and I'm so sick and tired of having to keep my opinions to myself. At first I just wanted to make him proud, you know? Doesn't every little kid want that? So I made the Hat put me in Slytherin, even though I would have been so much happier somewhere else, so everyone _hated_ me. Half of the Slytherins rejected me because I refused to bully people for no reason, and the other half hated me because people in my family gave Slytherin a bad name. I kept _trying_ to make friends, but—but it was bloody _impossible_! I hated the fact that whenever I went to bed and thought about things, I'd always realize that _no one cared about me_, and I just wanted to die. I was lonely and miserable for years, and when I finally decided to do something about it, my git of a father says that I've 'inconvenienced him'. I just…" Scorpius quieted, embarrassed that he had blurted out so much. He could feel the Weasley's blue eyes on him, judging him. The boy wanted to scream out his pain and frustration.

"I care about you," she said, almost so soft that he didn't even catch it. Scorpius looked over at her quickly, trying to see if she was just joking, but her expression seemed sincere and her cheeks were beginning to color. "Our friendly rivalry was one of my favorite things about Hogwarts."

Scorpius blinked. "_What_ rivalry?"

Rose looked surprised, and Scorpius tried not to think how cute that looked. "That one where I beat you in Transfiguration, Charms, and DADA while you beat me in Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, and Astronomy; it varies in the other classes…" She trailed off, sounding unsure.

Stunned was the only word that Scorpius could find to describe the emotion that came after this tidbit of information. "So… you think we've been _competing_ all of these years?"

The ginger now looked just as confused as he did. "Haven't we?"

He barked out a laugh, but there was no humor in it. "I never thought so! I thought that you just wanted to beat me in everything 'cause all I am is a bleeding _Malfoy_…"

Rose's sheepishness was obvious. "Well… that's sort of how it started. My dad pointed you out to me on the Platform on our first day. He told me to beat you in all of our classes. When it turned out that you were just as smart as I was I, well… I started to respect you. Beating you is what made me push myself to do better, and after that first year, I started getting more interested in you. That's when I stopped thinking about beating your arse into the ground and decided that we were rivals. I guess, now that I think about it, it was pretty stupid." She was blushing tomato red to the tips of her ears.

"…I've never felt respected before," Scorpius said quietly, embarrassed about all of this feelings talk, even though he started most of it.

Even in the semi-darkness, the boy could see her smile. "There's a first time for everything. And M- Scorpius, to tell you the truth… I think you're going to do great things one day. You really are a brilliant wizard."

Now Scorpius was sure that he was blushing as brightly as she was. "Thanks, Rose. Just… thanks."

He felt as if he should pay her a complement back, but what could he say that she didn't already know? She would have probably been told a million times how smart, brave, cunning, funny, beautiful—

_Stop right there, Scorpius; she's just pitying you, so don't get your hopes up._

With a sigh, the boy rolled over and tried to fall asleep.

Scorpius woke to the sound of a loud thud on the linoleum floor. Cracking open his silver eyes, he was met with darkness; it must have still been nighttime. Sitting up and rubbing his head, he searched for the source of the noise.

And he found it almost immediately. Rose's wand was on the small table in the room, its tip shining a small light that barely illuminated the sparse room. The girl herself was trying to take a few steps forward, but she instantly lost her balance and fell.

"Goddammit!" she sobbed, tears slipping down her face as she beat a fist on the floor in frustration.

Within a second, Scorpius was out of bed and hauling the girl off of the floor. She looked surprised by his actions and even more astonishment entered her expression as he cupped her elbows, helping her keep her balance. "We're going to do this together, okay?" he said softly, his gray eyes showing nothing but kindness.

"Sod off, _Malfoy_," Rose said, trying to push him away. "I don't want your help."

Scorpius almost let go, almost let her drop to the floor in a heap. But, somehow, he was able to put a cap on his pain and kept a firm hold on her. "Stop being stubborn," he commanded. "You're just going to hurt yourself even more if you keep falling. You won't be able to do this alone, and I figure that a slimy snake like me is better than falling an hitting your head."

Rose's protests quieted instantly, as she could hear the suppressed emotion in his voice. "I'm sorry, Scorpius."

The boy offered her a weak smile. "It's no problem. Now, I want you to take a step forward as I step back."

She took one step, following his instructions. Then another. On the third, she faltered, but Scorpius managed to keep her steady. "I've got you," he reassured her as she tensed up. "You can trust me."

It was completely strange, what was happening between them.

_**A/N**__: I'm not too sure when I'll be able to finish this; I'm really busy with school, marching band, and community theater. I was going to post the entire thing as a big one-shot, but I decided to split it into a couple of parts. _

_This is my first time writing in a male perspective, so I hope I did Scorpius some sort of justice. This is also my first time writing in JK Rowling's beautiful world (Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series), so please tell me if I got anything wrong. I hope that you'll give me any praise or criticism that you can offer in the form of a review. Thanks for reading! _


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: …Oops. I didn't mean for it to take me this long to update, but with marching band, school work, NaNoWriMo, and other miscellaneous things, I didn't get a chance to update. I beg forgiveness._

_Chapters are probably going to be a bit shorter from here on out, just because I'm still figuring out the pacing and my muse has begun to leak away. However, I will do the best I can to give you all semi-regular updates; there won't be another three month long gap like this one. And I will finish it; that is certain._

_Also, do you think that I could get away with dropping the rating to a T? I just feel that M might be a bit strong, since I'm not showing any violence—it's just strongly alluded to. Thanks in advance!_

_Oh, and by the way, I'm not J.K. Rowling, so I don't own any of the characters. Just the plot. Consider yourself disclaimed. _

_The boy offered her a weak smile. "It's no problem. Now, I want you to take a step forward as I step back."_

_She took one step, following his instructions. Then another. On the third, she faltered, but Scorpius managed to keep her steady. "I've got you," he reassured her as she tensed up. "You can trust me."_

_It was completely strange, what was happening between them. _

By the time the lights turned on in the room, signaling that it was daytime (as the room was located in the interior of the hospital, which meant that there weren't any windows), Rose was able to walk across the room. She hadn't progressed enough to be able to stop on her own, though, and her legs were as shaky as a newborn foal's. The girl's muscles had been stiff after a few days without use, but Scorpius was sure that she'd be walking strong in no time.

The Malfoy, on the other hand, hadn't made any headway with his own issues. He still didn't exactly want to be on the godforsaken planet, and he continued to yearn access to the wand that had become like a limb to him, but he had to admit that helping Rose had made him feel just a little bit better.

It was nine o'clock—about two hours later—when the immediate members of the Weasley family returned to check on their kin. Surprisingly, they found her sound asleep, her hands fisted in the rough sheets of her lumpy hospital bed. Scorpius was in a similar position in his own bed, having passed out there when Rose felt that she had practiced enough for the day.

Rose slept, albeit restlessly, for two hours; her first physical therapy appointment began at eleven, and a nurse came to fetch her just a few minutes before, bringing a wheelchair with her. Even in her groggy, half-asleep state, she scowled at the object with distain.

"I don't need that thing," the Beater muttered after she downed the pain relief potion that she had been given. "Lend me an arm, and I'll get there fine."

The nurse had the decency to look sympathetic, but before he could open his mouth to get a word, the girl's father spoke up. "Even if it _wasn't_ hospital policy for your sort of injury, you would be using the chair, because we wouldn't want to risk you hurting yourself. Now come on, I'll help you sit."

_Scorpius would let me walk there_, Rose thought, irked. _He didn't baby me last night._ She was about to open her mouth to say this in her defense, but then decided against it, coming to the conclusion that mentioning anything that had to do with the boy in the bed next to her would be a bad idea.

And also because that last bit sounded more like one of her cousin James's innuendos than she would care to admit.

Sparing one last glance at the sleeping boy across the room, Rose sighed and pushed herself out of bed and into the wheelchair, denying the hands that had been waiting to help her and scowling as she did so. After she got as comfortable in the Muggle contraption as she possibly could, the stubborn girl wheeled herself out of the room, leaving her family in her wake.

A yawn burst forth from Scorpius's chapped lips as the boy stretched, reaching towards the ceiling as he acknowledged the fact that his self-induced injuries no longer caused him pain.

He wasn't sure at the moment if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Pushing the sleeves of his hospital gown back, he examined the slightly raised lines carved into his forearms. The one on the right was slightly diagonal and straight, as that was the one that Scorpius had decided to _sectumsempra _first, but the healed gash on his other pale wrist had missed its mark, going to the side of his forearm instead of the center of its ivory white underside.

Maybe, if he had better aim that second time, he would be dead. It wasn't a calming thought to either of the perspectives that were duking it out in his blonde noggin.

It was at that moment that the Weasley clan came back into the room. Quickly, Scorpius flicked his wrists so that the long sleeves of the gown came to rest over the ugly scars; he didn't want anyone else to see his weakness, and that went especially for Rose. If she saw them, she'd probably laugh in his face and call him a coward.

And he definitely didn't want that.

"So how did it go?" Scorpius asked, genuine curiosity lighting in his eyes as the girl pushed herself out of the wheelchair and sat down, hard, on the bed.

Rose ignored the surprised and taken aback looks from her family and smiled at her newfound friend. "Better than I expected. I guess I have you to thank for that."

Scorpius found himself smiling a bit; the expression felt strange on his face, even though he'd been showing that particular facial movement around the red-haired Quidditch star quite frequently. "It was my pleasure. I could help out a bit more later, if you'd like."

"Hold on, hold on," Ronald Weasley broke in. An uneasy expression had settled itself on his freckled face, and Scorpius could tell that he wasn't happy about the Malfoy brat doing _anything_ with his daughter. "What are you two going on about?"

Rose turned and grinned up at her father, and Scorpius could tell immediately that the man's daughter had him wrapped around her finger. "I was trying to walk last night, daddy, and Scorpius helped me. It's why I could do all of the things that they tried out in therapy today." She placed a small hand on top of her father's, which was fisted in the sheets by her right knee. "He was a perfect gentleman."

"I wouldn't give myself all the credit," Scorpius put in with a blindingly white smile that was relatively forced. "You've raised a very strong daughter, sir. Very stubborn, when she wants to get something done. You should be proud."

Ron may not have caught on to his daughter's sweet talk, but he definitely noticed Scorpius's attempt at subtle manipulation; his blue eyes narrowed, and her turned to appraise the boy in the opposite bed. Auror mode had been activated, and Scorpius wondered if a painful interrogation was in his future. "You're being vague; I want a straight answer, with all of the details. What were you and my daughter doing last night?"

Scorpius threw his hands up, palms out, in surrender, and his sleeves fell down to his elbows. "Sir, I—"

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, stop behaving like a child!" Hermione exclaimed, smacking her husband's shoulder. Her irritation soured her expression, and Scorpius could tell that she'd had to call her husband off numerous times before. "You're not at work and you don't even _know_ the poor boy—"

"What're those?"

Hermione was still admonishing her husband, but Rose's timid question had gotten Scorpius's attention. Panicking, the boy realized that his bare forearms were in full view, so he put his arms down quickly, as if something had stung them. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing," he snapped quickly, his hands fisting in the sheets on his lap.

"What happened?" she asked, curious and uneasy and a little bit afraid. "Are those why you're in here?"

Scorpius forced a laugh, knowing that Rose could probably see the alarm in his eyes that he'd been unable to mask. It sounded bitter and fake to even his own ears. "No, of course not. They're old. Stuck my hands in a bush, I did, to get out a… galleon that I noticed was in there! Scratched me up, it did." He let out another strained chuckle. "What did you think they were?"

The room was nearly silent for a moment. Ron was grumbling to himself, arms crossed, as Hermione sighed and shook her head; both were completely unaware of the event that had just transpired between their child and the boy on the other side of the room. Scorpius's shadowy eyes flicked to Rose, who was looking at him with a bemused, slightly pitying expression that made the boy want to curl up in a ball of shame and spill everything. He knew she had an idea of what had really occurred—Scorpius could see the thought running through her mind—and he knew that if he wanted to tell her, he could.

It was the pity that stopped him.

He hated pity. Sympathy he could deal with, but he'd learned at an early age that nothing good came from pity. Ever since he was a boy, he'd been pitied—pitied and hated, both coming from his family's gruesome history. Scorpius couldn't stand his only friend (even though he'd only really known her for about a day) looking at him like that, even if it was for a completely different reason than all of the other looks of that emotion that he'd received over the years.

"Mr. Malfoy?" a hesitant voice questioned from the door, unsure of whether or not she should enter. "It's time for your appointment."

"Wonderful," he said, practically jumping from his bed and running out the door, leaving a group of confused Weasleys in his wake.

He wasn't ready for her to know. Scorpius wasn't sure that he ever would be.

"You can tell me, you know."

It was late. Scorpius would have to guess that it was about one in the morning, and yet he lay awake, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about anything at all.

Of course Rose would still be awake, too. She'd assumed the worst when she saw his scars, and for once, the worst was correct. The girl had felt sick when she saw the pale white gashes on his alabaster skin, thoughts consumed with images of the boy who was becoming her friend sprawled out on the floor, eyes open but glazed with a sheen of lifelessness, crimson blood glistening—

And then he was gone, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Her family noticed her subdued mood, though they thought it had appeared for a completely different reason.

Other members of her family came to visit her: Uncle Harry and his family, which included Aunt Ginny, James, Lily, and her best friend and beater partner Albus ("_Al!"_ he corrected in her head); her cousins Fred, Roxanne, and Louis also stopped by, giving her messages of love from relatives that had been unable to make it.

Scorpius hadn't had any visitors. Or at least, not any that Rose had seen.

When visiting hours were over and the Weasley-Potter clan was gone, Scorpius had returned to the room, looking tired and indifferent. Where he'd been all day was a mystery to her, and when she asked, he'd just shaken his head and plopped down gracelessly into the uncomfortable hospital bed across the room.

And that was where the boy remained, still looking exhausted and just a little bit lost. "Can I?" he questioned in a monotone, sounding as if he could care less about the answer.

"Yeah," she affirmed softly, turning over and propping herself up on one elbow so she could see him. The only light was the small amount that leaked in from the dim hallways from the crack under the door, so she could just see her friend's outline under the thin sheet that was supposed to be a comforting blanket. "I trusted you last night. And… I sort of want to be sure that they're not what I think they are."

"So what do you think they are?" Scorpius asked, his voice still void of emotion.

"Scorpius…"

"Rose."

"Please don't make me say it."

Suddenly, Scorpius turned so he was propped up just like she was, and faced her. "So what if they _are_ what you think they are? What difference would it make? Why would you care?"

A lump formed in the girl's throat. Emotion had colored his tone, and he sounded so damn lonely that it made her stomach hurt. "Please."

But he wasn't ready. Scorpius _almost_ wanted to tell her, because the truth seemed like it would kill him, and he still wasn't sure that he was happy to be alive just yet. "Goodnight, Rose."

He fell back onto the mattress and rolled over to face the wall, not saying another word the entire night.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: …Well, this update did not go up as quickly as I had planned it to, as Real Life got in the way (as it always seems to do). Once again, the chapter is shorter than what I would've liked it to be, but my Muse seems to be hiding from me. This chapter is going up mainly because of the response I received for the last one in the form of lovely reviews—you all are wonderful! Thank you so much for your support and praise; I run on it like a car runs on gasoline :) Anyway, enough with the cheesy similes—on with the chapter!_

_(Oh, and the disclaimer: these are not my characters, though I would love to own them. Sadly, I am just playing with them. Hopefully I am doing these wonderful characters justice.)_

Guilt was a feeling that Scorpius was well acquainted with. It had followed him wherever he went ever since he learned how the terms "death eater" and "Malfoy" were related, like a heavy storm cloud that refused to let the sun shine through.

He was not, however, used to waking up with it pressing down on his shoulders. The boy could almost feel the weight of it, pushing hard on his collarbone and chest, as if the world depended on it's—

Wait. Hold on.

Guilt normally didn't usually move suddenly from a person's collarbone to their face.

Scorpius made some sort of uncomfortable noise, and the pressure moved off of his nose and left eye to the edge of his bed, by his stomach. "Sorry," was whispered in the dark.

Of course. It was his temporary roommate.

"It's all right," Scorpius sighed, sitting up, though part of him did wonder what Rose was trying to achieve by groping his face in the middle of the night. Even though the guilt wasn't actually a physical presence, he could still feel it sitting like a stone in the pit of his stomach. "What were you trying to accomplish, exactly?"

"Um." The room was still dark, but he could practically see her blushing tomato red to the tips of her ears. It was somehow funny and adorable and attractive all at the same, which was weird, especially for someone like him to be thinking. "I was… y'know, practicing. But I fell. On top of you. Again, sorry."

The Slytherin smiled tiredly. "Better on me than on the floor." He raked a hand through his hair and shook his head slightly, making it stick up just a bit less. "Want any help?"

Rose smiled, relieved that her friend seemed willing to put what had happened the night before between them. "Sure."

They both got up, the redhead doing so a bit shakily, and Scorpius right behind her. He cupped her elbows from behind—which was a bit different from the way that they had practiced the night before—and told her that he was ready then she was.

The girl started forward. She was still unstable and a bit weak, but Scorpius could tell that she was improving. He would say that Rose getting back on her feet that quickly was a miracle, if he believed in them.

After only twenty minutes, the lights turned on, signaling the end of the night and the beginning of a new day. They both yelped and squinted as they did, shielding their eyes with a hand. However, when Scorpius let go of his friend, she stumbled and would have hit the floor if her roommate had not lunged for her and got a good grip around her waist.

"How about we migrate to the bed?" Rose proposed after a few moments of awkward silence, and with a nod, Scorpius went along with her suggestion. They both sat on his bed (well, it was more leaning than sitting) until Rose decided that she was tired of the awkwardness and flopped down onto the sheets, clamping a hand on Scorpius's shoulder so he would come down with her. After they were situated, she began to speak.

"Look, Scorpius, I understand I crossed a line last night, and I'm sorry," the girl began, playing with her orange locks as she did so and refusing to meet her friend's eyes. "I truly am. You have to know that I'm just worried about you. Even back at Hogwarts, when we barely knew each other except for a rivalry that I dreamed up, I was worried— you had no friends, you were bullied relentlessly, you never spoke. I always wanted to say something to you, but I'm not really a Gryffindor; I'm only in there because I begged the Sorting Hat. I was never brave enough to befriend you, and I regret it now, because sweet Merlin, Scorpius, no one should even _think_ about doing… doing _that_, let alone _try_. No one should ever have to feel that horrible. And now I'm just lying here rambling because I really have no idea what to say to you to make you understand that I'm so glad that you're not dead, because if you were, I'd still be lying dejected in a hospital bed with no hope for my future—"

"Rose—"

"No, let me finish whatever the hell I'm trying to say. I'm only just getting to know you, but you've helped me so much, and I have no clue how I'm supposed to repay you. It's not that I think you're only helping me to get something in return, but you deserve something for putting up with my bullshit legs that have to relearn how to do their job. So I'm just going to shut up now, because even though I've been talking now for a few minutes, I really haven't said anything. But I want you to know, Scorpius, that I want you to stay. It's a better world with you in it. It's an incredibly cheesy thing to say, but it's true."

Silence reigned. The blonde boy was struck absolutely speechless, and even if he wanted to say something, he doubted he could get words past the lump that decided to stick itself in his throat without his permission. Even if Rose felt as if she had said nothing, Scorpius knew that she had said _everything_.

So instead of speaking, he reached out and grabbed her hand, intertwining his long fingers with hers. Their hands fit well together, some part of his subconscious realized, and he hoped that he wasn't cutting off her circulation with the amount of strength he was gripping her with.

She didn't complain, so the Slytherin figured that she could deal with it. So they just laid there for what seemed like hours, staring at the ceiling and listening to the hustle and bustle of the hospital right outside of their door.

Any second, the Weasleys would be arriving, so Scorpius knew that he had to say something before they did. Taking a deep breath, he finally spoke. "I'll stay."

The line hadn't come out as strongly as he had anticipated, but it was a _thank you_ and an _I'm sorry_ and an _as long_ _as you stay with me, too_ all wrapped into one. Rose understood the whole meaning, and squeezed his hand once before they both had to get up and face the day ahead of them.

Hours later, when Rose was chatting with Albus and her mother and Scorpius was reading Rose's copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_, someone whose presence Scorpius had been dreading arrived.

The boy's mother rushed over to his bed, fresh off the floo network. She'd returned to Malfoy Manor less than an hour before, and immediately had changed and dragged Draco to the hospital to see their son. Astoria was obviously a bit frazzled, her chocolate brown hair pulled back from her face in a haphazard braid and pale face void of makeup. She ignored the Weasley clan and strode straight to her son and hugged him tightly.

Scorpius returned the embrace tentatively, feeling a bit awkward doing so. "I'm so sorry I couldn't get back sooner," she apologized, tightening her grip on him for a moment before releasing him and taking him by the shoulders instead. "Is everything going alright? You father said that there was a bit of trouble, but you're getting past it, aren't you? Was it his fault? That man is always so irksome that I don't even know that I want to listen to him when he speaks—"

"Mother, everything is fine," Scorpius cut her off, maneuvering out of her grip and standing gracefully. "Shall we step outside?"

They both left the room, leaving behind some Weasleys who were expecting a show. Rose just huffed and rolled her eyes at her family before starting a conversation about something that had absolutely nothing to do with anything important.

At the same time, Astoria and her son met up with Draco, who had been waiting just outside the door. He seemed tense, as if he was regretting the harsh words he had said in the hall a couple of days before. Scorpius felt no sympathy for him.

They walked in silence to the courtyard, where they sat on a bench in a secluded corner of the area. Before anyone could get a word in, Draco sent his son a look, telling him that if he didn't start a fight, then they wouldn't be at odds today.

Scorpius hoped his face conveyed that if Draco said anything to make the boy angry, the yelling would be justified.

"So mother, how was Romania?" Scorpius asked politely, as if he was talking to one of his father's clients and not his own mother.

"Dull," she responded. "It doesn't matter. I want to hear about you." Her voice cracked at the end of the sentence, and her bottom lip wobbled. The woman's hands, encased in soft black gloves, twisted nervously in her lap. "Why… Why would you do something like this, Scorpius?"

Before anyone could move, Astoria was a sobbing mess, curling into her husband's chest. Draco's arms went around her automatically, and over her shoulder, the man sent his son a look that said _Look what you did!_

Scorpius tried to communicate that he didn't really care; his mother was a crier, and she'd probably be bawling even if he _hadn't_ split his blood all over the bathroom floor in an attempt to say goodbye to the good ol' universe.

Draco just rolled his eyes and patted his wife's back, more than used to this sort of scenario. After a moment, Astoria decided that she didn't want her husband right then and latched onto her son instead.

"I love you, Scorpius," she declared, clutching him so tightly that he wondered if she was lying and wanted to finish his job for him. "I don't understand why you wanted to do such a thing!"

The boy opened his mouth to explain why he did what he did, and found that he couldn't. Guilt nearly overwhelmed him, and he found himself hating that stupid emotion once again; it seemed no matter what he did, he couldn't get away from it. "I'm sorry, mum," he said, hugging her just a bit tighter. "I don't think I know why either."

They stayed like that for a while: Astoria in her son's arms, Draco sitting next to them awkwardly and stroking his wife's back, trying to offer what little comfort he could. This sort of thing rarely happened in the Malfoy family: they were a reserved bunch, except for Astoria's random emotional outbursts. But then again, it wasn't every day that a part of the family tried to kill themself. As morbid as it was, maybe it would turn out to be a good thing; maybe it could be the one thing that tied the broken bunch together.

The family that had crumbled so fast and so hard had hit rock bottom. They hadn't completely realized it when Voldemort fell neither the first time nor when Harry Potter defeated him a second, but there was farther a family could fall. And it nearly took a suicide to get them to see that.

On that day, in that moment, all three of them knew that slowly but surely, the Malfoys would catalogue their scars, cut their losses, and build themselves back up again.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: It's only been a bit over a month since my last update, which is pretty good time for me. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and favorited; you all mean the world to me! I can't see this fic being much longer— perhaps another chapter or two—so the end is near. I hope everyone enjoys, and reviews motivate me to update faster!_

_(Off topic: did anyone else see __**The Hunger Games**__ at midnight [or any other time, really]? Wasn't it wonderful? My only real complaint is that it was a bit rushed [which makes me worry about how __**Mockingjay**__ will be transferred to the bigscreen, as it's a rushed book to begin with…].)_

0000

The days got better after that. Though the family was far from putting the whole ordeal behind them and discussing the finer details of Scorpius' decent into depression, things were starting to fall into place. Soon, the boy was sure, his parents would be allowed to take him back to the manor (with a large bottle of Muggle medication, of course).

Rose was getting stronger as well, and that helped Scorpius' mood, seeing as they had become closer during their late night "practices". He didn't have much experience with the matter of friendship, but the Slytherin could feel some sort of strange bond forming, and he wasn't sure if it was friendship or companionship or what.

When the announcement came that Scorpius would be allowed to leave St. Mungo's in two days time, it almost wasn't a surprise. A bit of a disappointment, sure (had he really become so attached to the Weasley girl that he wanted to stay in this stygian place for longer than he had to?), but at least that was a sign that there was a chance that things could go back to how they used to be.

That thought really wasn't a comfort to him, though; how things had been were what caused him to get put in this bloody hospital, so the boy really doubted that the circumstances returning to how they had been previously would help anything. With his luck, he'd just end up back there with new scars.

(Or maybe he'd succeed.)

Scorpius rapidly shook his head to try to rid himself of that particular thought, his light blonde hair flying around his head almost like some sort of strange halo. A small giggle from the other side of the room caught his attention, and the teenager turned to see Rose, who had been asleep just moments before, sitting up in bed with her legs pulled up to her chest. Her freckled cheek was pressing down on her knobby knees, and her sparking blue eyes were dulled, so he could tell that she'd only just awoken.

"What?" he asked with a small smile as he adjusted his body to mirror her position.

"Your hair," she said, mirth clear in her voice. "You looked like some sort of dog that'd just gotten out of the bath."

His eyebrows shot up, slightly mocking the girl in a playful way as he replied, "Oh, so I look like a dog, do I? I better not smell like one, or your family'll definitely be staying away today."

To Scopius' relief, his friend laughed at his shitty joke and was about to make another comment when a nurse entered the room, carrying one of the clipboards that seemed so stereotypical. "So Mr. Malfoy," she started, completely disregarding the boy's earlier request to not be called by his surname, "it says here that you're doing very well. In order to reward you for your behavior, we've decided that it was about time that we gave you this back."

The healer reached into the pocket of her lime green uniform and took out a familiar looking wooden stick (ten inches, oak, dragon heartstring core). "Oh thank Merlin," he sighed, taking the wand from her perfectly manicured fingers. His hand still fit perfectly around he handle, his long digits wrapping around it as if he were greeting an old friend.

Suddenly, images flashed in front of Scorpius' eyes: the dark blue of the loo's tile floors; the coolness of the bathtub against his back; stabbing, searing pain that seemed to come from everywhere; blood, so much blood…

Scorpius blinked, and the vision was gone. The healer hadn't noticed his little journey down memory lane, as she'd been explaining something to him. "—so certain spells have been blocked, just to make sure nothing like this could happen again. After a set number of days, we'll revoke the charm, and you'll be able to use your wand freely once again, though what spells you use _will_ be monitored."

"Of course," Scorpius said politely, even though everyone knew that Death Eaters (and their children) already had their spells monitored by the Ministry, so this was nothing new to him.

The nurse nodded, seeming a bit unsure where to go from there. "Alright, Mr. Malfoy, seeing as it's nearly time for your appointment, I shall escort you."

Scorpius nodded. Getting out of bed, he followed the healer to the door. Before exiting, he shot a smile at Rose, but she didn't look happy. The girl had noticed his minor psychotic episode, he realized, and she looked worried. _You okay?_ she mouthed at him, her blue eyes overflowing with compassion.

_Fine_, the boy responded silently, and with one more reassuring smile, he left the room.

0000

Rose was not in her bed when he returned from his appointment nearly two hours later. This confused him, as her physical therapy sessions usually weren't until later in the afternoon. Scorpius felt that everything had to be all right though, seeing as she'd taken her wand off of the nightstand and the crutches that she used for moving outside of the hospital room were gone. She'd probably just gone to the garden.

Sighing, he went to sit down on his bed, grabbing Rose's worn copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ to leaf through. He sat there for a good half hour before the door handle started to jiggle, and Scorpius could just barley make out Rose cursing from the other side.

She burst into the room, nearly falling, just as Scorpius put down the old book and go up from his position on his bed. "Ms. Weasley, just a moment!" an unfamiliar voice called from the hall, and the exhausted look on Rose's face was all it took for Scorpius to shoot across the room, close the door, and take out his wand to lock it.

Sadly, it seemed that a locking charm was one thing that he could no longer do. Without commenting, Rose took out her wand and did the spell herself, and the door locked with a small _snick_.

"Thanks," Rose panted, strain evident on her face. Someone pounded on the door, and more footsteps came rushing down the hallway. She glared at the door, and Scorpius took this as a sign to get her away from it.

"Here, come on," he said softly, taking her crutches and laying them against the wall. Wrapping an arm around her waist, Scorpius led his friend to her bed, with her leaning heavily on his side the entire time.

That was not a good sign.

"Is everything all right?" he asked as they sat down on the bed. Rose stayed in the same position, burrowing into his shoulder as she tried to catch her breath, so he kept his arm around her waist, rubbing her side in a way that he hoped was comforting.

"Yeah," she breathed as she pulled them across the bed so they were resting against the wall behind it. "It's just all of these stupid journalists, wanting to get a scoop. The press is in a slow spot, I guess, and all they have to talk about is some stupid celebrity's kid."

"I'm sorry," Scorpius said, at a loss of what to say. Sure, he'd been approached by the press before, but never _mobbed_ by it. Maybe if the news that he'd tried to commit suicide leaked, he'd know what that felt like. "Are you feeling alright? Did they hurt you?"

"No," she said, answering the first question, "I'm fine. Just a bit tired, 's all." Rose's breathing was begging to slow down, but her legs were still trembling tremendously next to his. "And sore. But I've been dealing with them my entire life, so it's not exactly something new to me."

Scorpius clenched and unclenched his teeth, still worried about his friend. "But you're recovering, and something as strenuous as running from rabid journalists _has_ to be bad for you." Rose laughed, albeit a bit tiredly, but he took this as a good sign. "Maybe you shouldn't go to physical therapy today; you're tired."

"I really don't want to," she said, sighing as what little stubbornness that still pressed on her shoulders leaked away. "After that ordeal, I just want to take a nap."

Scorpius smiled at her, and the girl's heart skipped a beat at the indefinable emotion that she spotted in his gaze. "Then go to sleep; I'll be right here."

She did.

An hour later, an angry voice echoed down the hallway. "Oi! What're you lot doing camped outside this bloody door? Get away before I report you to the Ministry for being a public nuisance!"

Not wanting to anger Ron Weasley further, the remaining journalists scampered off, scolded. Before the man could reach for the door, Scorpius grabbed his wand and undid the locking charm, allowing the Weasley clan to enter.

He could tell that Ron was about to say something scathing to him (probably due to the fact that his only daughter was cuddled against the Malfoy's side as she slept), but Scorpius held a slender finger to his lips. "She's exhausted," he said in an undertone. "She got chased around this madhouse by the lot of them, and it took a lot out of her. If I were you, I'd cancel her physical therapy session for today."

That was probably the only time that he'd ever get away with ordering a Weasley around. With a resigned sigh, Ron nodded, and Hermione went to the reception desk to both cancel the appointment, as well as berate the staff for not doing anything about the mob of press that had been camped outside the door.

Scorpius felt like this was a good time to return to his side of the room. He untangled himself from Rose only to have her grab for his hospital robe. With a warm but rueful smile, he unwound her fist from his clothes and allowed it to grasp the sheets instead.

Sitting on his own bed, he grabbed a book and was about to begin to read when Mr. Weasley cleared his throat from across the room. Scorpius' eyes flicked upward to meet the older man's gaze, and he was surprised to see some measure of respect hidden in their depths. "Thanks," he said. "For helping her out."

Showing a small smile, Scorpius turned back to his book. "It's no problem."

0000

Later that night, Scorpius awoke to a light shining in his face. Blinking heavily, he propped himself up on his arm, wiping sleep from his eyes. Then the light was gone, and Rose was speaking. "I'm sorry; I was just looking for my quidditch book."

"Oh," he said eloquently as he reached for said book, which had fallen off his bed and hit the floor on the side hidden from Rose. "Here." He tossed it to her.

She caught it with one hand and put it down on the nightstand. "Thanks."

"It's nothing."

The silence was long and a bit awkward. Finally, Scorpius decided to break it. "Does that sort of thing happen a lot?"

She knew exactly to what he was referring to. "Once in a while," Rose responded, pulling a leg to her chest to prop her chin on. "Only in a huge mass like that five or six times, but the press is everywhere when I go out: Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, even in Muggle London sometimes. I've had them on my back all of my life, so I suppose that I should be sort of used to it by now."

Scorpius couldn't really imagine life like that. Sure, the media watched his family because they were waiting for them to mess up, but it wasn't so _constant_. It must have been horrible.

"How the hell do you keep it together all the time?" Scorpius questioned, turning for the first time to face the ginger, who was looking at him as if he were saying something unexpected. "I know your family is famous for _good_ things, but it can't be easy having all of that pressure on you to be just as good as your parents. It's not so different from people expecting me to turn into a mass murderer, now that I think about it."

Some sort of choked sound came from her throat, and it took Scorpius a moment to realize that Rose was _laughing_ at him. The boy unintentionally scooted back on his bed, a bit offended, but then she looked at him and he noticed that the thread of despair that he'd become so used to seeing in her expression was completely gone.

She looked so beautiful that Scorpius forgot to be insulted.

"You get it!" she exclaimed, breaking him out of his thoughts (not that any coherent streams of consciousness were flowing through his mind in the first place). "Sweet Merlin, you actually get it!"

Scorpius just blinks, looking at her as if she's gone mad. "What?"

He looked a bit like a wounded puppy, and in her exultation, Rose decided that she didn't want to be half a room away from him anymore. The girl got up and walked shakily over to Scorpius' side of the room before burying him in a hug.

The Slytherin froze up, his body going rigid as she practically fell on top of him. That was as close as Scorpius had gotten to his new friend, besides during their late night practice sessions and earlier that day after getting nearly assaulted by the press. He could feel the slight rise and fall of her chest against his; her breath on his neck; her hair tickling his nose.

And it felt so good that he couldn't help but return the embrace, leaning forward and letting himself be engulfed by the roaring flame that is Rose Weasley. Her hair smelled like apples, he noted, and then he realized that the scent of her red locks is a strange thing to notice while she also has her breasts pressed up against him.

Wait, now they _are_ in the front of his thoughts.

Rose pulled back and grinned at him, her blue eyes squinting in the darkness, and started talking a mile a minute. "Everyone thinks that being the kid of two members of the 'Golden Trio' is so damned _easy_, and it pisses me off! We're chased down by reporters, we can't go out to dinner without getting asked for twenty autographs, and I can't even fuck up a little bit without bringing shame down upon the family. Oh, and I know that it's harder for you," she backpedals, thinking that she may be offending him. "I mean, my family is famous for saving the world, so I can't imagine what it could be like to be infamous for the converse. Dear God, that must be horrible. But…"

Rose finally stopped to pause for breath, inhaling a large gulp of air. Calming herself a bit, she reached over to take his hands before continuing, "I don't want to pretend that I have any idea what you've been through." Her voice is quieter, more hesitant, and she runs a thumb across Scorpius' wrist, tracing the new scar and making him flinch. The Gryffindor realizes that she's crossed a line and pulls back, confining her touch to just his hands. "I've tried to explain what my life is like to others, but they don't get it. I didn't even have to _say_ anything to you, and you just _got_ it. And that's wonderful!"

The silence was long and loud, echoing through Scorpius' mind as he tried to make sense of Rose's ramble. He watched her as she licked her lips and look down at the sheets, beginning to blush tomato red. Even then she looked stunning: her hair hugged her cheeks as it flowed down the sides of her face, almost hiding her beautiful blue eyes and her straight teeth, which were toying with her lip nervously. She thought that she'd done something wrong, Scorpius knew, and all he wanted to tell her that she'd done something completely, entirely _right_.

Without stopping to think it through, Scorpius leaned across the gap between her and kissed her.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: …Well shit._

_I really didn't mean of it to go this long without an update; over six months is much too long. I feel like a douchebag. It's just really hard to find time to write these days, and my muse has almost completely transferred to original stuff, so I've been working on that more than fanfiction. But, I will state this: THIS FIC WILL BE FINISHED. It breaks my heart to see so many fics go on hiatus to never return, and I will not let it happen to this one. It's almost over, anyway._

…_I think so, at least. It sort of depends on whether or not I get a stunning idea before I write the next chapter._

_But anyway, enough excuses; on with the chapter!_

…

_Tomorrow, I will be gone._

Scorpius did not mean "gone" as he once had when he'd slid down onto the ornate bathroom tiles of Malfoy manor, but meant it in the actual sense that he would be removed from St. Mungo's the following day. All sorts of connotations went with that word, though_—_it meant he was taking another step towards normalcy, living with his parents again, getting out of the stuffy hospital air… leaving Rose.

For someone who'd only known her for just over a week, Scorpius was awfully attached to the girl that he'd kissed the night before. It seemed as though it wasn't as much of a folly as he thought it would be the second that the thought, _I'm kissing Rose Weasley_, entered his head. It had been a rather quick one (_definitely_ not a snog), over in a matter of seconds. Scorpius was glad that it was dark so she couldn't see how goddamned red he was becoming, but it wasn't dark enough to completely mask Rose's smile before she took a deep breath and dove right back in.

…That last one was most _definitely_ a snog.

And then they'd gone to bed, though it took Scorpius a very long time to get to sleep after that whole ordeal. The first few minutes afterward was spent digging his nails into one of his scars and trying to focus on anything but the bulge in his robes. After that was taken care of, he still was too hyped up to sleep.

Eventually, he got there, but only for a few hours, as he awoke to darkness and thoughts of tomorrow. It only was a few minutes before they turned on the lights, though, so it wasn't _that_ early. Stretching, Scorpius sat up in his bed and glanced over to his roommate; she was curled up under the covers, the only thing not completely hidden by them being her fiery shock of hair. The boy smiled slightly before getting out of bed and heading to the restroom.

Despite being early, the hospital was already bustling with activity, and Scorpius doubted that the clamor of it rarely stopped. It was like the large beehive at the edge of Malfoy property: constantly buzzing with busy workers, going in and out of rooms and making potions and salves as they went. The boy nodded politely to a few of them who made eye contact with him as he passed, turning corner after corner until he finally made it to his first destination, and then to the garden.

Sadly, it was busier than it had been when he'd come to it before, which resulted in his stay lasting for only a couple of minutes. Instead, he made his way to the front of the hospital, where a small shop was situated. He sifted through the books (all of which he'd already read) and settled on one titled, _The Miraculous Mysteries of Minotaurs_. After paying for it with a few spare coins from his pocket, Scorpius went back to his room.

Rose was awake, and she smiled at him as he entered. Under the happy expression, though, was the tiniest bit of fear, which Scorpius supposed he should get used to seeing from those who knew the truth of what he did; it wasn't like they could help it.

"Good morning," she said from her position, sitting with her legs folded under her on his bed. "I was wondering where you went. New book?"

"Yeah," he said, and then read her the title. "A decent one; I read it a year or two back. And as much as I love quidditch, there's only so many times you can reread a book on it in a week."

"I understand." She patted the spot beside her. "Want to sit? My family isn't coming until lunchtime."

He did so, leaning back against the wall as he did so. Placing his new book on his bedside table, he turned to face her. "How long have you been awake?"

"Only about ten minutes," she responded. Upon closer inspection, it did seem like she was still a bit sleepy. "One of the mediwizards dropped a tray outside, and the sound woke me."

"They should be more careful," Scorpius said. "Or at the very least cast a couple of noise blocking charms on the rooms at night."

Rose rolled her eyes a bit and squelched the urge to tell him to lighten up. It'd been a hard time for him, and a cessation of a great deal of his seriousness would come with time, she was sure.

This led to thoughts of what he'd tried to do, which led to even _more_ thoughts of how he'd been treated at Hogwarts, by her especially. She hadn't really been cruel to him, but the whole rivalry fiasco (which she _still_ felt embarrassed about) hit her anew. He'd said that he had seen is as her wanting to beat him in everything because of his blood, not his level of academics, which was something that hadn't even occurred to her after her first year.

And then it hit her like a ton of cauldrons full of cold potions falling on top of her. _Oh God. Part of this is my fault._

The thought nearly crippled her (no pun intended). Of course, there were lots of factors in a suicide attempt: home life, reputation, brain chemicals, treatment by peers. It was the last one that hit her the hardest; what she'd thought was harmless could've been one of the things that pushed him over the edge.

She felt nauseous. She wanted to run away (even though she'd likely fall after the first couple of steps) and never have to think about that again. She wanted to know just how much of it was her fault, how much of the blame was hers to shoulder.

…Perhaps, one day, she'd be able to gather the meager amount of courage that she had and ask him outright. But today was not that day.

"Rose?" Scorpius questioned; she'd been zoning out for a while now.

She blinked, coming back to reality, and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry," she sighed. "Lost in thought."

That seemed to be an acceptable answer. Scorpius knew something had happened, though, as there was a slight shift in her demeanor; all of those years of watching and not speaking left him with a decent understanding of how people acted. But he decided to let it go.

They talked for a good three hours, even when breakfast was brought in and they could only speak between bites of bagel and eggs. It was perhaps the longest Scorpius had ever conversed with a person, and it felt amazing.

However, Rose's family came in around noon. Instead of just her parents and brother, today it was the Potters too: Harry, Ginny, James, Lily, and Albus, all together. This resulted in a bit of an overwhelming atmosphere, even though they didn't speak to him.

"My family is so boring sometimes. I have no bloody idea how I'm related to any of them."

…Wait a second.

A weight appeared at the side of his bed, causing the cheap mattress to sag. James Potter sat near the end before falling back across Scorpius's legs. "You've got bony shins, mate."

This was a strange thing to be occurring, as Scorpius couldn't remember ever talking to the seventh year before. And now he was on his bed, lying across his legs and calling them bony.

He tried to come up with a coherent response. "Well, I'm a skinny bloke."

"Yeah, you are." James tried awkwardly adjusting his position, but he couldn't really get comfortable. "You're Scorpius, right? Like the constellation, except without the part where Artemis sent you to kill Orion?"

"Um… yeah?"

"Nice. We should go do something interesting. What's interesting around here? Is there a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes branch?"

Scorpius was beginning to draw the conclusion that this kid had an extremely short attention span. "I doubt it. And the only places that aren't rooms or off limits are the garden, the gift shop, and the cafeteria."

"Food," James said dreamily, thankfully ignoring the "off limits" areas. "That sounds wonderful." He sprung up from the bed. "Off we go, then." When Scorpius didn't move, James quirked an eyebrow. "What're you waiting for, you want me to offer you my hand like you're some dainty damsel?"

Scorpius blinked. "Um. No."

"Well come on, then."

This was perhaps the most confusing thing that had ever happened to Scorpius in his entire existence. He got up, making sure his robe covered his wrists as he did so. "Scorp and I are going to get some food," James announced to the room. "We'll be back later." He walked across the room, opened the door, and strode out, leaving Scorpius looking on bemusedly.

"Don't let him drag you all around St. Mungo's," Harry Potter (_the Harry Potter_ was speaking to him without even the smallest bit of contempt) said, smothering a laugh. "He'll drain anyone, if you let him."

The boy really had no idea what to say. He settled with, "Thank you for the warning, sir."

"Can you bring me back some butterbeer?" Rose asked hopefully, mirth hidden in her eyes; spending some time with James was definitely going to be a completely new experience for him.

"Sure," he said, smiling softly at her as he walked out and shut the door behind him.

James was waiting impatiently outside, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. "You're slow," he complained before taking off in the opposite direction of the cafeteria. Scorpius was tempted to let the other boy get himself lost, but his moral compass wouldn't let him. "The cafeteria's the other way!"

Turning on his heel, James strutted (there really wasn't another way to describe his walk) back towards him, grabbing a handful of the Slytherin's robe as he passed to make sure he'd be keeping up with him.

A few minutes later, they were sitting down at one of the sturdy wooden tables of the cafeteria, with pumpkin juice (plus Rose's butterbeer in a to‐go cup) and some sort of mystery meat. While Scorpius ate carefully, as there were known to sometimes be stray bones hidden in the strange brown mass, James sucked up his food ferociously, shoveling it into his mouth as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. "So Scorp," he began around a mouthful of carrots, "what do you like to do?"

"Um," he said eloquently, once again completely lost for words. "I play some quidditch?"

"Ugh," James scowled, putting down his fork and leaning away from the table. "I am so sick of quidditch. It seems like everyone in my family is bloody obsessed with it. There are much better things in the world than flying around on a wooden stick and trying to catch a tiny yellow ball, thank you very much."

Scorpius was a bit taken aback, but tried to come up with another answer anyway. Seeing as James had mentioned some information about the blonde boy's name when he first plopped down on his bed, there may be a safe answer. "Astronomy is pretty great."

It turns out that Scorpius's answer was a good one. James resumed eating with a grin on his face. "I knew you must've had _some_ sense. Astronomy's the best subject taught at Hogwarts. So I've heard that all Malfoys are named after constellations…"

And so began the friendship of James Potter and Scorpius Malfoy.

…

After about an hour, they went back to the room so Scorpius could give Rose her butterbeer and then set off for therapy. James sent him off with a, "See you at Hogwarts, mate!" which put Scorpius in a reasonably good mood; James was actually a pretty decent wizard. Being friends with him would probably be all right.

Therapy went as it usually did, with Scorpius saying the right things and making sure what he said was _almost_ exactly what Miss Reyes wanted to hear (he couldn't be _too_ obvious in his ploy to get out, especially when he was so close to release). When he arrived back at the room, the Weasley‐Potters were gone, and he had Rose to himself.

The girl seemed to be a bit melancholy, though. She was skimming through his book when he entered, and gave him a weak smile as she tossed it across the room and back onto his nightstand. "How was therapy?"

"Alright," he said, sitting down next to her. "I still have her wrapped around my finger."

Rose was quiet after that. Sighing, she laid back against the wall, refusing to meet Scorpius's gaze even when he mirrored her position. After a moment, she began to speak.

"I heard them talking," she said, resting her head on his shoulder. Her hair smelled faintly of fruity shampoo, and it felt soft against his cheek. "I know you're getting out tomorrow. Scorpius, I know you don't like to talk about it but _please_…" If Scorpius hadn't known better, he'd say she was getting choked up. But everyone knew that the great Rose Weasley didn't cry (except on that first night at St. Mungo's, but that was out of frustration and despair). "I don't want to see you back in here again. It… it makes my stomach hurt to think that if you'd… done what you planned to do, I wouldn't be talking to you right now. We wouldn't be friends."

He knew she hadn't meant to strike an uncomfortable cord in him, and that it had to be discussed eventually, despite how adamantly he wanted to avoid it; with his impending release, why not now? After taking a deep breath, he began speaking. "The sorts of feelings that drove me to where I am right now just don't disappear in a week, Rose. Don't talk," he snapped as she opened her mouth, and then changed his tone as he realized the harshness of it, "please just let me finish.

"A lot of what I think about myself and the world around me hasn't changed very much; hell, it's been a _week_, Rose. A single week. A complete shift in perspective takes time. This kind of loathing doesn't immediately dissipate when you get a failure; if anything, a failed attempt increases the bitterness and animosity towards yourself and the world. I mean, I couldn't even bloody _kill myself_ correctly; what does that say about my accomplishments?" There; he'd said it bluntly, out loud, for the first time, and he could never take it back.

She sounded even closer to tears this time. "_Scorpius__—_"

"Please don't cry," he said quickly, afterward swallowing a couple of times to get the lump out of his own throat. "Please."

It was silent for a few moments before he continued. "I hate a lot of things in this world of ours, myself included. But I'm sure you knew that. There are things that I don't hate though: the sky, some classes at Hogwarts, the sea, Quidditch, you. I'm going to try to focus on those for now, and see if that does something to help. I'm on some sort of muggle medication that I'm told will start to kick in after about a week or two, and it's supposed to help some. The big step here is that I'm trying to get someone to understand my perspective a little bit. I mean, you already know more about my situation than most because I'm comfortable enough with you to embarrassingly blurt out my pathetic life story every time we sit down. So, I guess my point in this is… well, I'm not going to get over it in a day. That's not how it works. But you're helping, Rose. You really are. And I will be back in here, because I want to visit you until you get out next week. If that's all right."

There was an incredibly long pause while they both thought. Eventually, Rose giggled a bit awkwardly. "It seems that a lot of our nights end with these sort of monumental talks." Before he could get a word in, she started speaking again. "I'd love it if you would come and visit. I think James has taken a liking to you as well, so you've got two friends that hang out around here now."

A small smile graced Scorpius's face. "Talking to James is like playing with a hyper puppy: fun, but exhausting."

This time, she full on laughed, and the sound was music to his ears. "Exactly! The exhausting part is sort of why I've always gotten along better with Albus. But James is great, too."

Scorpius mentally thanked whoever was listening for the change in topic; he'd had enough emotionally draining talk for the night. This thought led to him remember that last night when they'd been semiserious, there'd been snogging involved. A slight thread of disappointment jolted through him, but he cast it away as teenage hormones and paid no other attention to it.

"Maybe we should go to bed," Rose sighed, shifting a bit on the bed. "It's late, and you've got a big day tomorrow."

"Oh yippee, my big return to Malfoy manor," he said dryly. "I can barely contain my excitement… Do you want to do some practicing first?"

Rose thought of saying no before remembering that he would be gone tomorrow, and they probably wouldn't have another chance. "Sure."

After half an hour of that (and no falls to the ground for the first time), they settled into their separate beds. Tomorrow was going to be a big day, and neither wanted to be half asleep through any of it.

…

_A/N: Well, there you have it. Sorry if this chapter isn't up to my normal standard; it was really hard for me to write, as I couldn't really get the flow of it. Reviews would really help in that area, and constructive criticism (or anything else you have to offer) is appreciated. Thanks for reading!_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: It does NOT feel like it's been over a year since I posted the previous chapter. I didn't realize it'd been so long, so now I'm forcing myself to sit down and finish this fic. Sorry if it seems out of sync_—_I've written about 200,000 words of present tense second person in the interregnum, it feels weird going back to good ol' past tense third person limited_—_just tell me if you see any errors._

_If you're someone who's been with me since the beginning of this, I honestly can't believe you're still here, and I'm incredibly thankful of your support. If you joined somewhere along the way, I want to thank you for giving me motivation to pick this back up. If you're just looking at this for the first time, hey, you made it to the final chapter! Thanks! _

_Thank you to everyone for bearing with me and reading along. I'd like to hear your final thoughts if you have any you're willing to share. I hope you have a magical day and a happy life!_

_Edit: Seeing as I've gotten new follows and a few reviewers have mentioned updates, I'm going to state clearly that **this is the last chapter**. I marked the story as "complete", and I even said this was the last chapter in the original author's note, but I guess those weren't enough hints. Sometimes you just need to add some bold to get your point across, I guess. Happy reading!_

…

The day that followed wasn't as important as he was expecting it to be. Scorpius had overestimated its importance; all he did was set up weekly therapy sessions at the insistence of his parents, say goodbye to Rose (he could still remember how she'd clung to him, curled in his arms like a koala, fiery hair splayed all over and smelling of lavender fabric softener and the sharp, sterile smell of the hospital—a scent that he was sure was etched into his clothing as well), and go home.

He did not go back to visit Rose. They exchanged letters by owl for a few days, and a week later, just a day before his planned visit, she was released with instructions for recovery and strict regulations on her movement. Her thrice-weekly physical therapy sessions would continue for months, perhaps even years. She was still frustrated and weak and ready to put all this behind her, but the five stages of grief regarding her injury had its way with her. _There's nothing productive about pushing myself too hard, or sulking when something doesn't go how I want it to_, she wrote to him, about a month before they were to head back to Hogwarts. _I just have to persevere and maybe by next year, I'll be able to fly again._

When Scorpius said his farewells to his parents on Platform 9 ¾, his father hugged him goodbye for the first time. Their relationship was changing, shifting slowly but surely into something less bitter. Foraging a better connection with his family helped lift a bit of the painful weight from his shoulders, but just enough for it to be comparable to plucking Madagascar off the giant globe settled on Atlas' shoulders.

He sat in the corner of an empty compartment near the back of the train, and as usual, people went to pull open the door, saw him, and scurried away. As he tipped his head on the glass to settle in for the train ride, his compartment was suddenly filled with chatter.

Confusedly, he sat up just as Rose plopped down next to him. "Hey," she said, grinning, and he couldn't help but give her a small smile back. His eyes darted away from hers to see James sit down across from him, Albus plop on the bench on the other side of Rose, and two more people you didn't really know slide in next to James.

Ten minutes into the ride, everyone had more sweets than he'd ever seen in one place, and he realized having friends (however loose the term is) to sit with was _weird_.

The chatter stayed on appropriate topics, and he talked and ranted and even laughed a little bit as the train chugged on towards its destination. When they arrived at Hogwarts, they had to split up, seeing as four of them were Gryffindors and one of the kids he'd never met was a Hufflepuff. The Sorting was a blur, with clapping spliced in whenever he heard a shout of "Slytherin!" echo across the hall. Dinner at his table was quiet, but the food was good; even so, he left the second he was done, before any of his classmates.

It was surprising that no one had bothered him yet. Everyone seemed to be giving him a wide berth. Scorpius wasn't used to people leaving him alone completely—sure, the majority of students ignored him, but there were always people who threw rocks or insults or hexes at him, especially at the beginning of the year. He wondered what could've changed over the summer that suddenly made the entire student body more mature. Was there some big epiphany they all had that caused them to leave him alone?

The truth hit him like a bludger. They _knew_.

Abruptly, the hallways seemed narrower and the students more plentiful. Their voices and footsteps were loud and echoing as his head spun and vision blurred. He couldn't seem to catch his breath, and as someone bumped into his shoulder, sending him stumbling forward a couple of steps, he belatedly realized he'd stopped in the middle of the hallway. Blinking rapidly and trying to catch his breath, he sped up his steps and practically ran to the Slytherin dungeon.

His roommates weren't there yet, still at the feast. That meant he could cast _colloportus_ on the door and curl up on his bed. His heart was pounding in his ears, drowning out his thoughts as nausea built. Any bit of control he had over the situation was gone, because somehow all of Hogwarts found out about his suicide attempt, and they were leaving him alone because of misguided pity.

_Shouldn't you be happy about not being bullied?_ a little voice questioned, and he hugged himself tighter. _Who cares about why they stopped, at least you didn't get pushed down the stairs or hexed into the hospital wing._

He felt sweat begin to seep into his clothes. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to ride it out, waiting for the anxiety to pass.

Finally, after almost half an hour, he could breathe normally. His muscles felt sore from shaking and his clothes were damp from sweat, so he got up on shaky legs to change out of his robes and into something more causal. He decided firmly to pretend the last hour didn't happen, and ignore the thought that triggered it all.

Not even five minutes after he cracked open a book, there was banging on his door. He unlocked it and opened it up, immediately saying, "No one else is here."

"Well that's just fine," Roxanne Weasley snapped, bopping you between the eyes with a scroll of paper, "because you're who I'm looking for. Rosie wanted me to give you this." She shoved the paper towards him, and you just blink at it, taken aback by the whole situation. "Bloody hell, boy, _take_ it."

He snatched it up, mumbling, "Thanks." Then, she was gone.

By the time he thought to wonder how she got in, there was no opportunity to ask. He believed she had a few friends in Slytherin, but he didn't really keep tabs on that girl, so he didn't know for sure. Either way, she'd given him something from Rose, so that's all that really mattered.

As his eyes scanned her message, he got up, grabbing his wand from his nightstand and walking over to the mirror. Scorpius' eyes were a bit red even though he hadn't been crying, and his hair was in total disarray. He tried to fix it a bit before heading out to meet Rose.

Scorpius was so glad she wanted to see him. He could really use a hug right now (or maybe something more) to help shirk the gross feeling that was hanging all over him. He'd helped her with her recovery and her morale, and something deep in his chest yearned for her comforting touch. _Maybe_, that same little voice craved, _she could help fix me, too._

The girl had told him to meet her by the greenhouses, because Professor Longbottom was the only one who was ever there at night, and he would let them off with a warning if they got caught. She's already there when he walks up, beaming and leaning against one of the greenhouses. Once he was in sight, she met him halfway, and he noticed how her footsteps were still tentative and her hands were held farther away from her body than one would usually carry them, as if she was ready to grab onto something if she fell. When they met, she threw her arms around his neck, and his wrapped tightly around her waist as he breathed her in.

Rose pulled away too soon, expression scrutinizing. "Are you okay?" she questioned, eyebrows tugging together as she grabbed his hand and pulled him back toward the greenhouse. She plopped down right in the dirt, not caring about staining her clothes whatsoever, and he had no choice but to sit next to her, leaning his back against the glass. "You seem off."

Biting his lip, he wondered if he should say anything. Ultimately, he decided to venture sheepishly, "I think I just had a panic attack."

Her lips parted and he instantaneously felt bad for worrying her, but all she did was slide closer and kiss his cheek. He felt his face heating up. "What happened?"

Taking a deep breath, he said, "I think word somehow got out about me trying to… y'know, die, because no one is bothering me. And that's really strange."

"No," she replied with certainty, shaking her head so her hair flew all around, some hitting him in the face. He didn't really care. "That's not it, I'm the only one who knows. I didn't even tell Albus, and I tell him _everything_. No." Her gaze turned away from him and towards the sky, and she began to pick at her nails. "It's probably because word has gotten out that you're my boyfriend, and people don't want to mess with someone that associates with a Weasley."

Scorpius wasn't excepting _that_. "Really?" he questions.

"'Really' what?" she countered.

"I'm your boyfriend?"

She purses her lips, looking bemused, before seeming to realize something. "I just sort of _assumed_, didn't I? Shit, it's like the rivalry thing all over again—"

"No, it's okay," he interrupts her, one corner of his mouth lifting. "I like that assumption."

"Great!" she laughed, just the smallest bit hesitant, eyes still focused on the stars. "Didn't want to scare you away."

There's a stretch of silence as they both think, and Scorpius was the one that eventually broke it. "You know, if you want to look at the sky that much, you could just lie down." Extending his legs in front of him, he patted his lap.

That was all the invitation Rose needed. She shifted, lying down so her head rested just above his knees, and Scorpius' fingers brushed some of the hair out of her face. While she gazed at the sky, he looked at her, running his fingers across her scalp and becoming familiar with the texture of her hair. When his thumb ran over a certain spot, she made a noise in the back of her throat, and he thought he overstepped a boundary. As he began to pull his hands away, she said, "No, that feels good."

They sat like that for a while, and Scorpius started looking at the stars as well, murmuring facts and pointing out constellations. Even though he knew they'd both taken their fair share of astronomy, he knew the map of the sky like only a Malfoy could, and she seemed to appreciate the new knowledge. When it fell silent again, Rose started thinking about something hard enough that a wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows, and Scorpius moved a hand to smooth it out. Rose sighed, and just by the tone of it, he could feel a heavy conversation coming on.

"You've helped me," she said, sitting up. Scorpius' lap immediately craved the warmth of her cranium, so he pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them to compensate. "Merlin, you've been so patient and wonderful and you've gotten me out of moods where I feel damn useless because of this piece of shit injury, but what I fear is…" She gulped, hand moving to run through her hair in trepidation. "I can't fix you," she blurted out, then clamped her teeth together. Anxiety begins to work its way through your veins, ensnaring them in a sharp wrap of unease. "Fuck, Scorpius, that came out wrong, I just—" Inhaling and exhaling sharply, she smoothed her skirt in an abrupt, mechanical fashion, and it's almost endearing, even though it felt like she was dumping him.

"So you're breaking up with me?" he said in a small voice. God, he sounded so fucking _stupid_, no wonder she decided she wanted out of the relationship. It'd hardly been half an hour since he was sure it was official, even though he assumed the idea had been in her head ever since he got out of the hospital, and he'd fucked it up in record time.

Her eyes widened, mouth popping open with an audible sound. He loved how she was always so expressive, wearing her heart on her sleeve in front of people she trusted. The intricate persona she built for others was completely gone when she was around him, and his eyes began to sting when he realized that probably wouldn't be the case anymore.

"_No!"_ she exclaimed vehemently. "Did I make it sound like that? Oh love, you're shaking, I'm sorry."

She leaned forward, looping her arms around his shoulders tugging him close. Kissing his temple, he held him as he gained some of his self-control back, rocking back and forth until his back felt a bit less tense. "This just sort of…" She paused, pulling out of the embrace and taking one of his hands and holding it between both of hers. "What just happened is evidence to support what I was about to say. Scorpius," she said, sounding tired, "I've heard of people getting into relationships to try and fill a hole, and they think by simply _being_ with someone, their depression will just go away, so what ends up happening is they throw themselves entirely into the relationship and someone gets overwhelmed and the entire thing goes down in flames."

"That's _not_ what's going to happen," he said, even though he'd been thinking just before about their reciprocal acts of fixing.

Squeezing his hand, she continued, "It could, though. I'm more than willing to help you when you need it. Just ask, and I'll be there. But I can't be a crutch or a medication or an excuse, so we're going to have to work at this."

Rose had a point. She almost always did. Exhaling though his nose, he said, "I promise to try, Rose, I really do. I don't want you to feel pressured into this out of pity or sympathy or anything, I just… want to be with you."

"Good," she replied, sounding a bit cheerier. She reached over, grabbing his shirt by the collar and kissing him.

When they're both out of breath and Scorpius was just getting used to the sensation of someone else's tongue in his mouth, they pull apart, Rose's forehead coming to rest on his shoulder. He wraps an arm around her back, rubbing a thumb over the bit of spine at the base of her neck. "I think it's going to be a good year," she chuckles into his shirt, voice husky with suppressed lust.

"Yeah," he agreed. They'd help each other in whatever ways they could, and at the end of it all, Scorpius decided that he was truly going to try to conquer whatever illness had seeped its way into his brain, not just for her, but for himself as well.


End file.
